Harry Potter and the Sporktacular Crossover
by FrontskyFeinter
Summary: Someone has stolen Dobby's most presious sock! Hobbits have made their way out of the Forbidden Forest! A vampire is selling children crack in the dungeons! Luke, I am your father! Can Harry save the day? Wait, who's the girl with the spakly nose?
1. Sock of Ages

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own Harry Potter nor his universe in any way, shape, or form. I'm simply borrowing the chap and his friends. The same goes for Lord of the Rings, The Matrix and Armor Hotdogs…pretty much anything in here. It's all disclaimed. I disclaim myself!

A/N: A short conversation with my muse before the story begins…

**Dobby**: Dobby poofs into the room Miss Author, why have you called Dobby?

**Frontsky**: Dobby, do you know about the Matrix?

**Dobby**: Dobby blinks The Matrix? No, Dobby doesn't know about the Matrix. Will Miss Author tell Dobby?

**Frontsky**: Dobby, The Matrix is the festival of lights. Instead of one made-up war, we get eight crazy fights.

**Dobby**: Dobby is wondering whether or not it would be a good idea to 'poop' away Eight crazy fights? Dobby doesn't know about eight crazy fights, Miss Author. Dobby just knows about the one fight with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

**Frontsky**: Oh, yeah, HIM. Well, Dobby, those Eight Crazy Fights are about a time when there wasn't a single drop of Crisco left and we needed to make pancakes, so we fought eight times with one another until we realized Crisco is lard.

**Dobby:** Dobby backs away slowly and prepares to 'poot' Dobby has no idea what Miss Author is talking about.

**Frontsky**: Ah, Dobby, it's time once again for the story to begin. Take your seats, please, as we'll have to worry about Crisco causing heart attacks much later.

**Dobby**: Dobby steps forward But, Miss Author, you still haven't paid Dobby his fee for being in your fanfic. Dobby has many other duties to attend to for Mr. Harry Potter, so Dobby needs a reason to stay. Dobby holds out his hands, looking surprisingly unsubmissive for a house elf

**Frontsky**: Ah, yes, Dobby, here's your payment. Hands Dobby unfolded socks And enjoy.

**Dobby**: Ah, thank you Miss Author. Dobby bows and poogs away

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The day was clear, blue; one could even call it easy. The sun, high in the sky in the peak of the afternoon, shone brightly on the students of Hogwarts as they watched the quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff reach an all new record for the most boring game ever. The golden snitch was no where in sight, the beaters were missing every time they hit a bludger someone's way, and not one goal had been scored yet in this already three hour match, simply because everyone knows that only games in which Gryffindor or Slytherin took part in were any good anyways. Dobby the house elf watched this mundane display of athleticism through the windows of the astronomy tower as he played with his vast collection of socks. He had big socks, little socks, socks who climbed on rocks. Fat socks, skinny socks, even socks with chicken pox, were apart of his amazing collection.

"One, two, three…a three," Dobby said, as he counted his socks. Suddenly, he noticed something to be quite out of place. He counted again, and again, only to come up with the same number he had before; Dobby's sock was missing. "There's one missing, there is. We don't like missing socks, no. Where are you, _my precious_? Where are you hiding?"

The little house elf gathered his sock collection in his arms and made his way out of the tower, back to the Gryffindor common room in search of his beloved sock. One may assume that this sock was simply an ordinary sock, like all socks are, but one is a complete idiot, as this is never the case. No, this sock was special.

Long ago in the days of cold feet, twenty socks were created. Three socks for the elven-kings under the sky, seven for the dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, nine for the muggle men doomed to die, one for the dark Lord Voldemort on his dark throne in the land of Angles where the shadows lie. One sock to rule them all, one sock to find them, one sock to bring them all and in the darkness bind them, in the land of Angles where the shadows lie.

Dobby knew what to do: he had to summon the helpers from the _mysterious land_. Only they had the power to find the sock. It required many spells, most of which were found in the restricted section of the Library, which, as everyone knows, can be broken into by anyone at any time, so long as they have cloaks. So, Dobby went about thinking how he could steal the best cloak of the school: the cloak of Maria Surez, this year's new transfer student from the U.S.

Maria was a normal girl. She was the daughter of Aurora Borealis-Surez and Juan Surez, who were both murdered by the Dark Lord Voldemort, when she was but a mere baby. Sent to live with her Muggle relatives, who knew nothing of the magic-world, she lived in the United States and at the age of eleven attended America's top wizarding school, Bubblebrains' Brilliant School for the Bulbously Bright. However, as Maria excelled immediately in all of her subjects, especially Wandless Magic, she had to be sent away.

Immediately, once learning of her skill, Maria's professors and the headmaster of Bubblebrains, Yoda the Masgnificent, decided to transfer her to the most prestigious wizarding school in all the world: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


	2. Uncloacked

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own Harry Potter or his universe in any way, shape, or form. Nor do I claim to own Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Buffy the Vampire slayer, and anything else that appears in here, basically.

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews.

**Legolas**: appears and looks around What is this place? Where am I?

**Frontsky**: By golly, if it isn't Legolas Legolas!

**Legolas**: Yes, I am Legolas. Who might you be?

**Frontsky**: It is I, your rabid fangirl, reporting for duty, sir!

**Legolas**: eyes widening as he backs away F-fangirl?

**Frontsky**: Oh, yes, Leggy. I'm here to serve you...or should you serve ME?! glomp glomp glomp

**Legolas**: O.O! Eep! glomped three times X.x

**Fontsky**: Yes, glompage! glomp glomp glomp Oh, such pretty hair! I shall make a hair doll!

**Kyle**: poofing in Oh, my god! You killed Legolas! You bastard!

**Millions of fangirls**: forming a mob with pitchforks and burning torches She killed Legolas?! FOR LEGGY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111 attack

**News Anchor**: We're sorry to interrupt this program, but urgent news has broken in: do not kill the author. thank you.

**Fangirls**: stop Aww, man...mob scatters, throwing down pitchforks and torches along the way

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Set upon a plane, rowboat, bicycle, automobile, train, and finally a thoroughbred pony named, "Chappie", Maria had made it to Hogwarts as the first and only transfer student that anyone could truly remember, as for some reason all other sparkly-haired transfer students were immediately forgotten.

Once there she was sorted into the prestigious house of Gryffindor, where she made great friends with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, even though she was smarter than the bushy-haired know-it-all.

Maria was just that kind of person, with her shiny strawberry blonde hair that hung down past her ankles, sparkly nose, perfect smile, and curvaceous body, who stood out in a crowd and did a damn fine job of it too. She excelled in her subjects and even helped teach some of them, as some professors simply needed the help what with running off all the time to try and save the day or get a better cup of Earl Grey. Either way, Maria was the "it" girl of the year, and everyone knew it.; especially Dobby the not-so-house elf who had to get his little grimy mitts on her wonderful invisibility cloak which not only outshone that Harry Potter's in a taste test, but was also a luscious lavender color with indigo trim around the edges giving it a nice cozy and yet quit stylish look.

Dobby entered the girl's dormitory to find it quite empty and set about in his tireless hunt for the Red October, also known as Maria's Magical Cloak of Sugary Goodness. He rifled through her chest a bit, and then moved onto her drawers.

"Nothing," Dobby said. "There's nothing here!" He searched again and again until he realized that the cloak was hanging quite invisibly along with an array of lovely brassieres on the left pole of Maria's four-poster. He snatched the cloak off the pole, and couldn't help but become distracted by how _shiny_ it was.

"What are you doing in here?" Dobby spun around with the shiny, shiny, oh how shiny cloak in his hands to see none other than Maria herself standing in the doorway of the room.

"It's that witch," Dobby said. "She's here for _her_ precious. She can't have it, no. I needs it; _we _needs it."

Maria raised her eyebrow. "And just what, exactly, do you need my ultra expensive, ultra shiny, so-rare-it's-the-only-one-of-its-kind invisibility cloak for, hmm?"

Dobby just looked at Maria, then gave a smile. "That's a secret," he replied smugly before poofing away.


End file.
